Can You Catch My Heart

Book Two

Dead Air

Chapter One

By

Retta Michaels

Disclaimer:

If your laws do not allow you to read this story, then don't. All the rest of you people who read it, if you think it's true, boy, have I investment opportunities for you!

Notes From Retta:

This is the second book of what I'm hoping is a four book series. Each one of the books is good in my opinion. I'm proud of each. Whereas the first book was more personal for me, this one is more of a fantasy. Book Three is more into the business side of things and four is a real love story that will yank your heart out and have you thinking Beck decided to play Soccer with it. [Speaking of Soccer, has anyone paid attention to how many hot guys are on those fields!]

Read and Enjoy

Chapter One

Hi, Jim Crane here. Captain Jim Crane.

Where do I begin? Do I begin the day my world stood still? Or, do I being the day my world began? I guess you could say both happened at the same time, but for me, life was and then, life became what I really prefer as the second half.

You see, I am a Captain for the United States Air Force special unit otherwise known as Dead Air. What it is, is an elite squadron of one that goes into war torn, or disaster ridden countries to haul bodies out.

Yeah, you say gross, but someone's got to do it and really, it's not that hard. You'd do it too if you knew how easy it is.

What we do is we go in. The bodies are in bags, thank God, and we put them in specialized coffins that if you dropped one out of a C-130 at fifteen thousand, that baby would land and stay intact. It's 100% aluminum and it's made to take a beating. On top of locks, we have bolts that are screwed through the things that hold the lids, and bottoms on. There are eight of them and when that thing's sealed up, that thing is airtight and not about to rust. She'll float and she'll stay intact so your casualty on board stays a casualty instead of paste scattered all over the deck.

What we do is we have a commission that takes the bodies to federal airfields all over the country. We also pick them up wherever and whenever. They weigh upwards of nine hundred pounds empty, so when we get a load on that plane, we've got some weight and when we hit turbulence, It sounds like a lot of tin cans jiggling together.

When we get the plane in the air, as I said, we have a lot of additional necessary construction in it; There's up braces and cross braces that keep the load centered and stable. Nothing and I mean nothing is going to cause one of those things to move forward, backward, or sideways. You can stand the plane on it's nose or on it's tail and it's going to stay where she got put.

As I said, it takes a pretty interesting personality to fly and I didn't get my commission the usual way. You see, I got decorated in Desert Storm and offered a one way ticket out at the same time.

You see, they gave me this intersection of a classified city in Iraq where someone just plain forgot me. Later, I learned they SAID they sent someone to check on our post and that platoon SAID they found nothing but enemy combatants. Whoever THEY were, they never said, but I'll tell you none of our guys ever attempted to get to me.

If they had, they'd found I'd shot the place up and had such a body count, the enemy did everything they could to try breaking me out.

What I had to start off with were a lot of empty sand bags on me and lots of sand with which to make myself a position. What I did, was found the intersection and popped a manhole cover and then, filled bags from under the street. Yup, as I said, lots of sand...lots of sand...and in a storm drain, you will find lots of sand. The thing about under the street in a storm drain, you tend to find wet sand which is near best to be described as liquid cement.

Fill a bag with dry sand and you've got probably about a hundred and fifty pounds of sand that yes, will stop a bullet, but it's still dry. Hit it and the bullet will rip a hole in it. Sand will pour out and eventually with enough holes, you've got a sandpile worse than a kid would put up. Put wet sand in them and you've got something that when a bullet hits it, it goes in, but you've got a position that is immense because those bags then weigh about five hundred pounds each. Pile them up in the middle of an intersection, I'll tell you now, a car hits it, the car suffers severe damage and those things sit still. If anything, they move mere inches. Drive a tank over it, and as long as you're sitting, it goes on over because he just built you a better position. He squeezed water out and cemented them together tighter.

SO, as I said, I made this position and I took heavy fighting. Heck, those guys emptied racks of bullets into that thing so much they thought they'd try different tactic and come running with grenades. What the dumb fucks didn't count on was my hearing the sounds of their boots coming and dropping them dumb sombitches in their tracks with live grenades. All I'd hear was a rat-tat-at of my machine gun followed by an ahhhh and whump. Sometimes, I'd feel the rain of blood and guts other times, I'd look back up and there's get a black burn mark where the person used to be. If there was parts, they lay to create a God awful stench in the hot blazing sun.

What I soon figured was these idiots took breaks. It's like it's mosque time and they'd call the freaking war off. Oops, be back in a minute Joe, gotta go pray. So, during those times, I'd take a break too. I'd go get the bodies that laid around and stack them up in front of my fortification. Heck, I figured the more that stopped a bullet and the more it stank, the less they'd be likely to run me or run a tank at me which they'd done numerous times.

What they'd do with a tank was they'd run over it and that's it. Only one time they shot and it was funny. They pulled way back and they aimed down the street and shot. Me, I saw that barrel lower, I ducked into the hole, put the lid on and I hear this huge whunk. I look up from the bottom, and it's still a tunnel. I climb up and take a look and the sandpile is still there. I look over and no tank. What I see is a gouge in the street where the shell hit and figured they weren't going to put on any more demonstrations to show they couldn't aim a tank.

SO, as I said, I rode it out. Enemy would walk by and I'd rat-tat-tat and drop him. He'd lay there until break and then, when his buddies would come back, they'd find his dead ass propped up against my shack and his AK-47 is now a part of my arsenal.

Now, you might ask what I ate for food and what I drank. As I said, there's a storm drain there. Water flowed through it and although it wasn't the cleanest, I drank from it. Food was supplied from a fig tree off the intersection that was well defended with two dead combatants. I didn't mind their deadness because they never bothered the figs. I'd fill my shirt with figs and trot back over to my bunny hole.

For over three weeks, I manned that spot. I'd see jet traffic overhead and I sat there without a radio. Combatants would run or walk by and they'd die. The stack got so high, the flies buzzing began to play songs in my ears. I'd think of a song and hum it in the key of buzz.

Then, on day twenty four, I hear a sound of a motor and popped up from my hole. I see a Humvee and waved to the guys. They stopped and I gave my sign. They radioed in and said, “Hey, you're supposed to be dead!”

“Nah, it was one of these guys. He lied. In fact, parts of him are lying there, there, and there.”

They laughed and I hitched a ride.

Now, some sombitch said I was supposed to have a radio. Wasn't me, I didn't have it, and I never dropped it. All I can say is I was supposed to have help, and he never arrived. They also forgot who that guy was supposed to be.

What did happen was there was a press corp in the squad that managed to pick me up and he snapped of photos of my hut. One of his photos showed one of the guys with his arms spread out over his dead comrades and he had his index fingers pointing like “he went that way and that way”. Now, me, I can't say if I did it on purpose or not. All I can say is it seemed funny and in the concert of flies, I might have been induced to have a bit of humor. Lord knows I did a lot less for entertainment while I was there.

Now, to the guys, I'm a hero. I took an intersection and I held it. The casualties I took are like one hundred and forty seven. But to the stateside papers that printed the photo, I was a “national disgrace”. All I wish was I had placed one with a strategically located middle finger so they could get my point.

Anyway, that's the story of how I got decorated for heroism and valor and offered my one way ticket out of the military on the same day. They went so far as to bring me stateside and to drag my ass to the Pentagon for my exit ceremony.. What happened there, was I got walked down the hall and somewhere along the line, Rummy got wind of what was happening. He had the guys call me in and I stood in front of his desk.

To me, I thought, oh man, I must be one bad assed motherfucker when they bring the biggest gun they have to take me down, but no, he sits there take a look at the photos and laughs. When he was done laughing, he said, “Son, tell me the story and I want ALL the details.” SO, I told him. He nodded and said, “They said you defecated and put it down their necks.”

“Can't say sir,”

“I wouldn't say either. There might be something against that someplace. “

He sat there with his index fingers pointing together and said, “I've got a deal for you. I'm not pulling your rank and I'm going to give you a commission of something that must be held confidential in the Air Force. Now, for them to yank my ass out of the Army and put me in the Air Force in my eyes was a bit let down. Any motherfucker can fly over a war, but it takes a man to run through it. So, guess what, I got put in the Air Force. So, I'm standing there paying attention and thinking at the same time. “They want me up off the ground so I don't play with dead people again.” But NO, they give me dead people!” GO Figure!

So, as he spoke, I caught what he said: “What we're putting together is a squad of guys that will have a C-130 whose main job is to be official transport for the dead. Not wounded, but dead. I don't want our wounded waking up on no plane and finding they're laying next to a casket. It makes morale stink and quite frankly, there's not that many. I thought there'd be, but it didn't happen.”

He looked at me and I was at parade rest. He said, “Sit your ass down son and let's talk.”

I sat and sat with full military posture.

He said, “Son, go to that door and then turn around and walk back in as a person and not a military figure. I want to talk and not get barked at.”

I got up and when I came back I came back in as myself.

“Son, you did your duty, now, tell me the truth, what's it like over there?”

“Hotter than hell, lots of sand, and lots of flies. Food sucks and people are real shit heads.”

He laughed and said, “I gather that. Now, this command is going to be called “Dead Air”. That's it's unofficial name and that's it's unofficial duty. On the record, you don't exist, and on the record, we're hauling bodies and if there are no bodies, then you'll be hauling prisoners. When you haul prisoners, I want them strapped to a casket that has their people in it. You open up that hatch of that motherfucker and you tell them you're shoving it out and they're going with it unless they talk. If they don't talk, you save the casket and shove their asses out without a parachute. The other guy will talk.

SO, we went into action and we brought home no bodies on the record because that's what the press were told. When there weren't any, our plane sat and we played a lot of hangman....haha....not really, that's a joke....No, I became adapt at Texas Hold'em poker.

The other guys in my squad were as follows:

Dick who is our pilot aka “Sling blade” because he got in a bar fight with someone once and when he got back to the barracks, he passed out only to wake up the next morning with a jackknife still embedded in his collarbone.

Dick is Grade A United States Navy turned Air Force. He got the boot because someone made him a bet he wouldn't go tubing off the ass end of a destroyer. It worked, but somehow when the brass decided to pay a visit to that area of the ship, the guys holding the ladder and the rope, cut it loose and he was seen as he sat drifting. Needless to say, the brig had his name on it.

John who is our navigator aka “Brain Freeze Jack” because of his affinity for Slurpees.

“Brain Freeze Jack” (“Freeze” as we call him) is from outside of Omaha, Nebraska. Out there, I guess he got adept at shooting birds with bb guns. That's pretty handy to have in the military, but not when he was shooting cards out of people's hands in the NCO club. Someone skid on one of those bbs and crowned himself with a leg of a chair. The brass wanted answers and they wanted them now. When they got them, all fingers were pointed to him because he was the only one with a bb gun in his possession.

Me. You'll learn about me as we go along.

Brad who is our Co-Pilot. Why? Who the hell knows. They said I needed him and my nearest guess is you can't play cards in some games without a fourth hand. He's real purdee, has all his teeth and can think of math problems faster than a calculator.

Brad's nickname is “Dr Who”, but it's from a joke he once told about someone claiming to be the 'love doctor' and the woman being asleep the whole time and when she woke up, she said, “Dr Who”? He got the title because when he came on board, he claimed to be God's gift to women. All I can say is when the man gets drunk, he heads the other way real fast and women aren't in that game.

That's fine in our crowd, because all of us are real quiet gays, but don't get your craw up and claim something you're not when a line of boiler makers causes you to start smelling your squad mates zippers.

So, that's our crew. Our mission is to haul dead and it's to remain unclassified. Folks see our plane and we are an enigma. We pick up bodies and we drop them off.

Our mission as I said began with Desert Storm, but since then, we've flown military missions and mercy missions. You name a catastrophe and I've been there hauling bodies.

Me, my nickname is the “Grim Reaper”. “Reap” for short. I don't know why, but if fit so I kept it. It's not like I had too many willing voters out back to help me get elected to another, so as I said, I got stuck with it.

I'll move over and tell you about the mercy missions. What they are is as follows. Let's say a landslide happens in bumfuck or an earthquake, or a tidal wave, or whatever....it's all the same. What happens is our government has taken the kindness route of telling the world, “Hey, if they look American, we'll take them and tag them and haul them back. If after thirty days, we'll bury them. It's racist as hell because the blacks aren't claimed as ours unless their dental work looks like it came from the states or they're wearing clothes with English tailoring in them.

It's not nice, but come day thirty one, if John Doe becomes Joe Schmo from Hoboken, his family get apology letters that he's already buried and this is his resting place. Usually, his family are left scratching their heads of how the hell did Joe got from Bumfuck to Cicero, Illinois, when he was on the phone with Mary, his wife, when the disaster hit. All we can tell them is our government claimed him and he's now buried in a national cemetery My question is why the hell didn't Mary call the Red Cross sooner? My guess is so she could load up on the life insurance so she'd be set for life on two timin' Joe's chit.

You might think it's gross, but the most we've flown were after the tidal wave hit and we carried non-stop for days. Other than that, we've carried even for disasters in the limits of the states too. Katrina saw us carrying bodies to remote locations as far away as California.

Why? Well, here's the way it goes. Our government loves being the nice guy and if Jackie Splitz dies in a skiing accident on a piece of federal property and no one claims her, then we take her to the nearest morgue or the one with the soonest opening.

Yup, you heard right. We have national morgues. Or, I should say, our government has morgue providers. The way that works is say Lance Green from rural Missouri has a funeral home and he has a cooler there that passes the requirement of being licensed as a national morgue, then, he gets a contract to house bodies. We fly him the body and he stores it. He takes the change and if Jackie's not claimed, our government pays him or another funeral service provider the funds of a low cost funeral.

Lance in this case is a funeral provider, so he gets to double bill the government for that service. Where Lance can triple bill the government is if he's a cremator, then he can also cremate the remains and get paid for that service. It works out nice, because there's a built in buffer zone on the national database of missing and exploited people, so that our pathologist at the military can take this deceased person's vitals and information as well as information and they can be cross referenced. If there's no information, then that person goes to a morgue as one of the many in the Doe family.

What I've not mentioned is our military has pathologists. Now, not every base has them. Heck, for that matter, there are few bases that have them. The ones' that do might be in Alaska, Hawaii, Georgia, or wherever. So, let's say Shirley Straupp from Hellsfever, Montana goes fishing on federal property in Florida and falls overboard and gets fished out herself. We have no clue who she is and we flip her body to Alaska for autopsy and then back to Mightyucky, Kentucky to a morgue. Yup, there's lots of miles put on this old bird.

Some nights, we have bodies called in all over. Other nights, we might have a haul in New York that's going to Alaska. We take it if it's one, or if its' a hundred. I can't explain it, but it's like a passenger train of death. You don't know how many are going to get on and how many are going to get off. All you know is you've got 'em and they've got to go somewhere.

As far as personal life goes, I can't say I've had one. From age of birth to age of fifteen, I was an average kid in an average life. At sixteen, I decided I absolutely had to get into the military and back then, they'd take us in if our parents signed the form that let us in. My dad gladly signed the form because he and my step mom wanted a life. I left home and with the exception of but a few times, I ain't been back.

In the military, I was really smart and happened to be in the right spot at the right time. I enlisted as a private, and by the time I was there seven years, I was a sergeant compliments of Olly North's rough riders. Fortunately, rather than getting involved in that mess, I got called back to the states and pulled into the Iraq day one because I was dumb enough to want to go.. It seemed the military really needed a few good men that would keep it in their pants and me being secretly gay did exactly that.

This led me up to Iraq whereas you know that story. I got fortunate once again and got to keep my stripes and promoted from enlisted to commissioned compliments of Rummy.

Some folks look at the man today and think of his as Bush's puppet master. The man I know isn't a puppet master perse, he's a man that is a natural leader. He'll talk to you, give you reasons something needs done and have you signed on to go do what is needed. He does it in such a way that you think it's a matter of public defense to go up in an old bird and haul caskets. Me, I didn't care because my income went from a little under fifteen hundred a month to a little under eighty grand a year. Yup, I smiled.

As for personal life, I shack in DC. It's not much but three of us guys share a house and none of us are there all month long. I see one one week a month and the other two weeks a month. For one week, I'm bach-ing it which is fine.

As for a love life, I can't say I've been lucky, nor have I been unlucky. I stay real fit and I have held my looks. Yeah, there's a little snow falling in up top, but a guy that's in his mid thirties expects that to happen. I've not been in any permanent relationships, but I've been in a few friendly situations where I can call someone and go over to their place for a few days of intimacy. It's not real, but I don't pretend it is.

One other thing about Dead Air, and I'll let it drop. Back after 9/11, our government decided we needed to house bodies when a national emergency happened. When all the other security laws happened to get shoved through, we got a real nice funding allowance and somewhat of a legitimate cause.

We now have priority anywhere we fly with the exception of Air Force One. No one and I mean absolutely no one has more priority than us. I think it's because they want us down and in and out and up before too many people see what we're hauling. I'll tell you now, when you fly into a busy place like Heathrow and a plane that's been waiting for some time hanging out there see's us come in and get down, they're a bit bitter. I don't think they'd be bitter if they were getting ride in ours, so they give me icy stares whenever I see them, and I give them blank ones, because that's what they'd be giving me if they were on my plane.

When Katrina happened, we were one of the first official planes to land. I'll tell you now, there were some pissed off people when we hauled in because I really think they thought we were relief. When our doors opened and we started carting out caskets, no one said anything, but air traffic sure got an ear full.

Katrina put us on the map so to speak. She did her damage in a bunch of states and we were busier than a cat in a toy mouse factory. We hit Florida and then Mississippi, Louisiana, and on over to Texas. We'd just about gotten things mopped when Rita hit and then, we had to go dropping again.

“Sling blade” as I said, is our pilot. The man is the best. I'll give you a clue as to his quality when I tell you our pilots go on to fly for Air Force One. We don't crash and we don't fly stupid. But, they put the best with us that happen to be single (gay) and we have landed in areas I wouldn't think we'd fit and have landing in areas were our wheels were churning up broken twigs and limbs to get there.

When we had the tsunami drops, we were in places where there weren't even airports. We got there because what was a road no longer had houses. The trees, were ordered cut down and the bodies were stacked. That one sight of those bodies is the worst I've ever seen. If anyone's seen photos of it, you know as well as I did, it didn't make the evening news. We hauled a plane in with three hundred caskets, and hauled out those and seven hundred and fifty body bags. Yup, we were a tad bit over loaded, but no one bothered to care.

Lastly, I'll tell you this about the federal morgue system. Currently, in our system, we have a capacity of around five thousand bodies. Most of the time, we stay at capacity, and when that happens, we have to roll out the bodies early.

The way we do it is the first in is the first out. It doesn't matter if it's from a federal prison, or if it's a Congressman, our computer doesn't know who it is, nor do they care. And, yes, there are knowns amongst all the unknowns. It's that sometimes, it's more tactful if we hold on to the body for a bit after the death instead of releasing it since there are some out there that do have crimes that are remembered in the news.

O.k., now I can tell you about the best piece of news I've had as of date. But first, I have to tell you another bit of information. Otherwise, you just won't get the full impact of what I've got to tell you.

When someone signs onto the federal morgue system, their whole town has to sign on too. That's the way it works, and don't ask me why. The person who has the morgue gets federal dollars and his morgue gets federal certifications and clearances. That means his town has to sign on that when an alarm goes out, the police chief cuts all available officers there as a priority, not an “oh well”.

The airport gets federal dollars too. That means that airport has to be maintained and it has to be open for us twenty four seven with a crew to keep the runway open. There are instances when we will make concessions, but I'll tell you now, the government doesn't make many. The amount of dollars they're paid is enormous and many times, it's way more than the man running the morgue will see.

For instance, for us to land, that airport gets ten grand. In some places, our dollars are what is keeping that airport open. We know that, and they know it too. So, when we say at two am on January 4^th, we're going to be there, we expect that place to be lit and the runway cleared. We don't want to hear someone say, “We're having a blizzard down here” because I'll tell you now, when you're having a blizzard down there, the bird is getting a blizzard too and I'm not meaning we're stopping in at the local Dairy Queen, I'm talking about a big old bitch that's likely to have a full weight capacity in her and I'm not even considering the amount that's stuck on top of her. We keep her hot in there against the skin, but that doesn't mean it doesn't cause the stuff to slide off.

So, on the night I'm mentioning, it was in February, and the central states were getting a blizzard. We had several bodies...well four of them...to deliver, and we get about the Illinois/Indiana line and we start radioing down to tell them we're coming in. What we had in reply should have been, “A-ok we're ready and the runway is cleared.” Instead, what we got was some naive girl responding back telling us the airport's closed as they're having a blizzard.

For me to hear that instantly had me pissed. “Sling” handled it more calmly than me because about then is when we were hitting the blizzard. The wind's bucking us and the old girl was revving like she was sucking some serious cold in the intakes. He radioed down, “We'll hang up here until you get the runway cleared. Once we reach your airspace, I'll set the timer and you'll have your designated three hour window to get it ready and to get it opened”. To which the girl replied, “We'll still be closed as there's no one here but me.”

“Sling” smiled at me and said, “Reap, that girl better be lying through her teeth because the closest airports I can set this old girl down is St. Louis and Cedar Rapids. If I have to use an interstate, believe me, I'll walk to that airport and kick a manager's ass.”

“I'll get on it and get the state patrol called and get that manager's phone number.”

“No, wait until we get into the window because if we go to alarming people when there's no need, then we'll be in more shit than we've ever seen.”

I nodded and continued to radio the airport to tell the girl to contact the manager. To which she replied the manager was at home and no one was going to get her to get him out of bed.

Sling shook his head and said, “Whatever we get into, I want her fired.”

“Oh, she's got that coming. Believe me, she's got it coming. Just promise me you'll see to it I don't leave the plane to go in there.”

He smiled and said, “If we have to leave this plane, I'm not promising you a thing. When we leave, I have to burn the control boxes as issued and skuttle this motherfucker. She better be told what the consequences will be.”

“No, because if I use radio to threaten her and this is a drill, then, we're all in a world of hurt.”

“When did they ever drill us?”

“There's always a first time and this would be one time they'd certainly do it.”

He laughed and 'Freeze' was steadily calling out coordinates because nothing up where we were was close to even been seen down there to give us a bit of a vector.

When we got over the airport, not a light was on. Sling said, “I'll set it to slow cruise and you start with telling them the window's open and we're expecting it cleared in three hours.”

I radioed and got back the same reply.

Shortly after we got another voice on the radio and I knew the voice instantly. It was Lance Green. Now, Lance, you might know, or you might not, but he's a kid that's probably twenty four that runs a funeral home. To describe this kid is just think of a wet dream and then multiply it by a power of ten because I see him and parts of my body instantly start wishing he was gay.

I don't know if he is, or not, but two thousand miles is a bit much to go and stalk someone. All I can say is if you put Rob Lowe and Julio Iglesias' kid together, you'd have Lance. A build and a smile that just makes you weak and whatever cologne the guy wears is awesome good. I've not gotten to know him well enough yet to ask, but believe me, I've been to several good department stores and sampled everything and it's none of them. It's always the same, and it's sort of his trademark. With his looks and that smell, I just know people are dying so he'd do their funerals.

As I said, Lance came on and gave me the bad news. But, what he also said is he'd just called the manager and the guy was on his way. He didn't say if the maintenance staff were on their way.

Along about a half hour to forty five minutes later, we see headlights below and “Sling” said, “There's the manager. I hope the guy gives us some good news.”

“We circle around and where we are, we should've been seeing Iowa, Missouri, and Illinois on a clear evening. Instead, we're not seeing much. Then, the lights went on at the airport. What we saw was dim lights which mean they're snowed in.

“Sling” said, “Sombitch! Look at those lights. I bet they've got two feet of snow on the ground. There's no way they'll get it cleared.”

“Stay up here and radio Sioux City and tell them we could be a bit late. If possible, I want this plane on the ground down there to give a good old fashioned ass chewing.”

“Don't leave the plane. Do your bitching through sanctions. They don't know you're the one that throws the paperwork at them on this mess.”

“Ok, but man, this has me steamed.”

“Freeze” was sitting quiet reading us coordinates the whole time and after I said the last comment, he said, “Federal warrants would do nicely.”

For him, that was telling us loudly he was irked. The guy never spoke unless it was coordinates. To say the man was all business when the old girl was in the air was saying the Pope's kind of Catholic. In the time I've known him, he's not gotten too many words out that told me much. I'll tell you he had tears in his eyes seeing Katrina's damage from the air, and he had more tears when we had the tsunami. Well, all of us did because that was horrendous. Then, when we set 'er down, that time, all of us gagged from the amount of loss of life. That sight still sticks in my mind and Lord knows I've seen death.

“We'll do Federal Warrants “Freeze””

We circled and we saw one solitary vehicle moving down there clearing us a path. I don't know what the man did, but I'll tell you he had to have had a double blade on that thing and it grinding into the tarmac because he got it cleared in one pass without needing clean up. Yeah, it was drifting across, but we've had that before. As long as the drifts aren't too deep, we can plow and blow it out of the way. I don't like it because the engines really need a good service afterwards, but after this snow, she was going to need it anyways. Things crack all to hell when they're supposed to be hot and they're freezing instead.

Now, for us to say we're circling doesn't mean we're staying right above an airport. We're not small and you don't lay this old girl on her side to do those turns. Not with me in it at least. We've done it, but I'll tell you now, if I've got to pick up a cup of coffee due to a turn, Sling's going to hear about it. He usually warns me well in advance to gulp it down.

What I mean by circling is we're taking an area of about sixty to seventy five miles and making that turn. Yeah, we could probably do it in about thirty or forty, but we're not in a rush. We've got a window and we use it.

When we came back around one of those times, we saw a cleared runway and we heard the girl's voice tell us it was clear to land.

Sling looked at me and said, “Do you think that guy put a de-icer tank on the back of that grader?”

“I don't know. Hell, I've not seen it done with just one guy, usually, there's a whole crew out there working. Maybe he did, but I couldn't tell you.”

“Well, we'll go down and if that girl's told us something that crashes us, she better wish like hell we all die because I'll personally bury her ass under the federal prison she'll see.”

Sling said, “Ok, but be prepared for emergency maneuvers. If I have to take it back up, it'll be steep. If I have to make it slide, drop the back door and you guys jump. The snow will pack you, but it'll be a sight softer than this thing hitting a tree.”

To say all this had my stomach in knots is an understatement. I think the Mrs Fields cookies I ate earlier were making their way back up.

We went down and the runway shown like it was a sheet of glass. That's nothing new because it'll look that way in rain, or after snow has been de-iced off. It just does that. What you have to do is wait until the wheels hit. If it's rain, the wheels will do a sssss sssss like a giant snake. If it's dry, they'll give a chirp. When it's snow, it'll do like rain, but you'll get the sensation of your ass sliding around.

Sling said, “I'm taking her in below stall. If I've got to power up, be prepared. If I think I can stop her, I'll give full reverse, so you're going to get jerked..”

“That's ok, just see we're in one piece man.”

He chuckled and said, “Make sure all those cans don't start popping in on us.”

“They won't but that weight shifting is sure going to not be good.”

“Yeah, I'm prepared for my nose to get heavy.”

He went out over the city and came in low. We went over a Wal-Mart Super Center low enough, I imagined the snow got blown off it's roof. We cleared the trees and went over a sub division and then, we entered the airport.

It's a good sized airport for being a smaller city. I've seen worse planning by a lot larger cities. When we saw the lights, I said, “What do you think?”

“We're gonna do it. I think I can hold her straight if it's not too slick.”

“Ok, give 'er what you got. I'm counting on you.”

“Thanks. I hope.”

When he set it down, his first words were, “That bitch!”.

I wanted to ask him if he wanted to power up but I knew at a moment like this, his concentration couldn't be broken.

We went down the runway, and I knew the speed wasn't scrubbing off. He hit the full reverse and she was still heading down the runway like a rocket sled on rails. It got to be so fast that I was looking at the end of the runway and wondering what they had out there and how far it was to the interstate.

We continued to go forward and the plane was really shuddering under the thrust. He'd make corrections when we'd slide a bit and she seemed to respond, which was good, but the end was still coming up at us entirely too fast.

Blade spoke in a rapid staccato, “IF we run out of runway, I'm going to put her into a slide to see if I can take it in ass first. That'll give us some hope.”

That sentence told me he knew we were going too fast too.

At three quarters, he said, “I'm a fucking fool. There's not a God Damned crash team available. We should have scrubbed it.”

That sentence told me it was bad.

The next sentence he spoke, “Get unstrapped and get to the side door. If I tell you jump, you jump and I'll have the jets off so you're not sucked in. We're at seventy knots and descending, hopefully, we'll have a light hit.”

At the end of the runway, he screamed, “I'm going to slide her now. You be ready.”

The big old bitch did a slide to the right and she went on around. How he did it, I'll never know, but the angels were with us because she stopped at a perfect one eighty and that's when he hit full forward to stop the momentum and pulled her out of the blue lights like he was taxiing her on in.”

Tears hit my eyes and he said, “Excuse me while I shake the shit out of my ankle.”

I chuckled and said, “Man, Steaks are on me.”

Freeze said, “Fuck that, I'll buy a cow and a case.”

I laughed and Sling said, “Scared ya Freeze?!”

“Scared, I want to punch that bitch in the mouth!” His voice was a high falsetto which sounded like Radar on Mash on helium.

Sling laughed and said, “Oh, I'll have a treat for them. They better be ready.”

“It's not Lance's fault. I'm sure he's here and has been waiting.”

“Yeah, that kid knows what his contract states.”

“Yeah, but I think it's just in him to do things right.”

“I know what you want IN him.”

“You do too man, don't tell me that shit. I see you eying him. There's not another airport on this circuit you get out of that seat, but for him, you're down there drooling.”

Freeze chuckled and said, “I think he's got us all down there”

Now, to tell you how scared Freeze was, I'll tell you. Those words there were the most I've heard from him off topic in the last fifteen years in the plane. Now, out of it, he's normal as the day is long, but in, he's by the book.

We cruised up and crunched uncleared snow.

“We gonna get stuck?”

“It seems solid, but of course I'm going to have to use some thrust to get us out of here.”

I looked at him and he winked.

“Don't damage the building is all I ask. Play with them, but don't bury Lance in that pile.”

“You don't want that nice ass cold?”

“No, because all my fantasies would then have to include him by a warm roaring fire.”

“Oh man, don't do that to me. I'll go out of here with a boner.”

I chuckled and said, “Let's go get his unstrapped, so we can get 'em to him.”

Now, the way it goes with the caskets is they're on a roller rack system that the rollers lock. They're really heavy rubber rollers and those when locked give a friction lock The only way to get a side to side movement of them would be to be in a barrel roll and if we ever have to do that, Sling better hope I'm never on board. He'll have a severe ass chewing coming. But for what he just did, I was going to put in to get him a commendation. That move saved a helluva lot of money and lives.

As I was describing, the caskets are all bolted shut. On the top of each casket on those bolts is a big loop which strapping goes through. It's much like a car safety belt, in the fact it clasps shut and double locks where as a cars single locks. The result though is forward and rearward motion is greatly minimized. I believe the specs state it's less than a half inch.

The benefit of the systems is all we have to do is flip a lever and the rollers go active. On the clasps, we twist and then lift and the belt comes undone. One guy does it on one end and another pulls from the other end. While we do that, a third guy holds a clipboard and we both read him numbers from a plaque on the casket. If the numbers don't match the sheet, the casket doesn't come off. It works, because we've not lost anyone yet.”

When we unstrap all we have to do is roll a casket cart under and roll the casket on. It then is lined up with the others we're to off load. None get off loaded until all are ready. The person receiving backs up to a powered conveyor belt which hydraulically gets let out of the plane and we can pretty much run the casket right in the back of the hearse.

In Lance's case, he has a Cadillac Escalade hearse that's really beautiful. I don't know what he paid for the thing, but I'll tell you now, it's the prettiest I've seen and I've been doing this over fifteen years. What's neat about his Escalade is it's got a raised roof and you can stack two caskets in on top of each other. He has the connectors done up that he can loop a mechanical fastener through our loops and all he has to do then, is flip a button like a power window switch and it locks the casket into place. Then, on the top of the thing, he's got a roof rack that is really a piece of mechanical engineering. It's made to look like the roof is raised on up, but what it does is it's metal and it hinges and becomes a huge air dam. I've seen him do three and it's done easily. I've never seen him do four, but our policy is we don't tell them what to be prepared to receive. They're supposed to be prepared for anything. I do know they should be able to know what they'll receive by the openings in their morgues. We keep them to capacity.

When we opened the side door and lowered out the conveyor, I went out onto the conveyor and spoke with Lance. He had two younger guys working with him and both were total fucking knockouts.

Now, Lance is hot. I mean sizzling hot, but these guys were awesome. Whoever they were, I knew they had to be his family because for me to say the acorn didn't fall far from the tree implies something that's too plain for them. The best way I can say it is the chip didn't fall far from the diamond in their cases.

One of the guys introduced himself and instantly, he told me volumes. The way he said he was Lance's partner told me he was gay and gave Lance away very evidently. Lance instantly got a bit defensive and asked if it was going to be a problem. I told him there was no problems with me. I didn't want him to know I was over our program, so there was no problem. What I did want to say was I had wanted to know, but didn't because Ty introduced himself as his partner. All I can say there is they sure make a pretty couple. Man oh man, that's like Brad Pitt and Rob Lowe getting together, but they never said anything about the other guy.

In the conversation, Lance said they were working for him and I instantly got them paperwork to file so their security clearances were given. This way, if they ever needed to go to a larger airport, they could go and get the bodies.

The guys filled the paperwork out in the truck and had them back in no time. While they were gone, Lance asked me how many he had coming and I told him four. He told me he only had space for three and I asked him if he got the voice mail I left him telling him he needed to empty space. He said he'd been busy and that's understandable. Heck, if I had someone that pretty at home, I'd be busy too. Which made me wonder about the other guy.

The other guy, I later learned from his paperwork is named Chance. I don't know why, but my first view of him after I knew Ty was taken was awesome. Chance is a bit broader through the chest. Not a lot, but he's built more like a quarterback of a football team or let's say Scott Baio. If you know who he is, then you're getting a real good image of Chance. He's enough to make anyone get round heels real fast and that's me included.

For some reason, when I looked at Chance, I said to myself, 'if you ever had a chance with him, you'd settle your ass down right now'. And, surprisingly, I found myself liking that idea and comforted by it. The one thing that gnawed at me was my age. Part of me told me that if he looked at me, he'd see my age and I wouldn't have a chance. That saddened me.

While I was talking with them, I was eying their interaction with each other and really liked what I saw. Working for Lance had to be easy. The guys were themselves and they were relaxed. I liked that because it told me he didn't hold formality like some of the undertakers did we serviced.

Lance's truck took the first three caskets like I knew it would. When we put the fourth on, it went onto overloads. The fortunate thing there is Cadillac makes it's vehicles robbing from the parts bins of other manufacturers in the GM group. Whatever's the best is what they use whether it be from a Buick, Olds, or GMC, they'll use. If they have to go to a Chevy part, they will, but it's rare. The springs I imagined were from a GMC. If they had been from a Chevy, it wouldn't have driven as the springing splays the rear wheels at the bottom and the tops will grind into the fender wells. Given there are probably air bags in there, but asking a suspension to hold up nearly double what it's designed to do in a modern vehicle isn't heard of or advised. With the special customization his vehicle had, I'm sure they put in the weight considerations for one or maybe two caskets, but certainly not four. I imagine the three they made allowances for was pushing it.

We rigged up some body bags as tarps so the snow wouldn't accumulate and then used a few spare straps we had on hand for him to tie into what he had. It didn't take long and we had them secured. Yeah, I did step off the plane, but that's allowed if it's to where I can get back if we have to do an emergency maneuver to get the plane to safety.

The guys made themselves scarce on the plane, and I imagined they were in taking a quick coffee break since we knew we had to get back in the air and on across this blizzard to get to Sioux City. Our stops wouldn't end until we reached back to Langley. Then, my day would be short followed by an all too short nap before I had to be back on for another trip to more fields.

I said goodbyes to the guys and took time to watch Chance's butt when he walked away. Doing that had me readjusting as I hopped up on the conveyor to pull it inside. I saw Lance drive over to the terminal entrance and knew he was going to claim his wait money. I had told him to ask for the full amount. He did get his bodies, so he wouldn't be given that as it states in the contract.

When I got up to the cockpit, I typed into my computer the information on the guys off their papers. I figured I'd have their information pulled up from the FBI database while we got ready to take off.

Sling looked at me and said, “They sure grow them nice in that town. I believe I might have to go there sometime” He looked at me and said, “Damn Reap, you got it bad. Adjust that thing.”

“This one's single.”

“Both are hotter than hell. Not as hot as Lance, in my book, but I wouldn't kick a one out of bed.”

“Yeah, I'm just wondering if I'm too old for him to give me consideration.”

“You think you're old, but you're younger looking and acting than the rest of us.”

Freeze said, “Speak for yourself, you old fuck!”

“Damn Sling, you need to scare the shit out of him more often! The kid's acting more like himself.”

Freeze said, “Some day, I'm going to be working on Air Force One and I'm going to turn around and get thrown out for calling the President the first thing I think, then where will I be?”

“Retired like me, then we can go out and chase the fellas together. Speaking of Chance, let me go over and look at him.”

I'd no sooner sat down when Sling said, “Do you guys feel stuck?”

Laughter rippled through the cabin because I knew what was next. “Don't break their windows whatever you do, but pile it on. Don't suck too much in.”

“Believe it, or not, I know what I'm doing!”

Freeze said, “I'll say! He can fly me anywhere.”

“I'd fly your ass to a deserted island and then have my way with you.”

“You promise and all I get is the fantasy. It's gotten so bad I call that motherfucker fantasy island.” Freeze joked.

Sling looked shocked and said, “Jeez, why the hell didn't you tell me? I'll take you out.”

“Guys, don't bring no problems on this ship. If you are sure, go for it. But be damned sure because I don't know “Who” well enough to get it done by ourselves.”

Sling never even acted like he heard my warning, he turned to Freeze and said, “We're off Thursday and Friday, let's go out on Friday.”

“Ok, but you don't be standing me up.”

“I'll be there. You just wear a suit because I've got to take you out and make you think I'm a respectable upstanding citizen.”

“Oh shit. You upstanding? I'd prefer you laying down.”

“Guys, headsets.” I said, hoping they'd take the hint. I sure didn't need “Who” in the Co-Pilot's seat taking offense and filing a sex harassment suit.

The put their headsets on and then chatter got more business like.

Sling spooled 'em up and then held on the brakes for a few seconds. I knew the snow all over the tarmac between us and the terminal just got blown to the terminal. Hopefully, there weren't any hard pieces that blew into the windows, otherwise the snow would fill the terminal.

We rolled out and when we hit the less snowy runway, Sling cut it back. He said, “Guys, up here where we turn around is going to be a bitch, I'm going to have to ease it and hope like hell I don't have to back it up. We can get out of here, but Freeze, I need wind and speed.”

“Northwest 18 mph”

“Ok, let me know if it changes.”

“Been steady like that for the past hour with occasional gusts up to twenty eight, but it's a slow storm. It's going to drop a lot on these people.”

“Well, let's hope the kid doesn't want to have the old man taking him out anytime too soon.”

They both chuckled and suddenly the radio came to life.

“Tell Jim the light's on!”

I laughed, the kid Ty had seriously thought John Doe, Jane Doe, and so on and so forth were all the actual names of the people. I chuckled, and then when he asked me my name, I couldn't help it, I said, “Jim Doe”. The kid looked perplexed and I had to swallow a huge laugh.

Sling gave a huge laugh and said, “That's a big affirmative”

“You guys made the terminal into an igloo!”

“Did any windows break?”

“No, but the snow instantly piled high. They'll be a week digging out. You were far enough away your point was received.”

“Tell him to tell Lance he's a lucky son of a bitch and that we're all family. I know the guy was worried about being gay. And ask him indirectly if Chance is single.”

“You got it bad for the kid, don't you.”

“Let's just say, I'd settle down for him.”

“Oh man, you've never said that before.”

“I mean it. I'm going to retire out in June and by July, I'll be available to go on with life.”

“You'd come to the middle of bumfuck?”

“In a heartbeat. The kid has a job and my retirement check will spend here just as easy.”

“Probably easier, the cost of living here is nothing.”

“That's true, a quarter of a million here will buy a real nice house. Back in DC, all it will get you is a dump.”

“That's for sure. Maybe Freeze and I'll have to come pay a visit.”

Freeze smiled and said, “Hey, don't knock bumfuck, remember I came from Nebraska! But Air Force One can't land here, can it? ”

“A good pilot could put it down here. They did have a problem once here back in the 80's and the pilot got the nose wheels stuck when he missed the taxiway.”

“Oh man, did he retire out?” I asked.

“No, Reagan was more forgiving than anyone we've had lately.”

“I would have liked to work for him. I would have stayed on and tried for a job if he was on.”

“Yeah, what Freeze and I'll get is the Dame and you know how everyone was treated by her the first time around.”

“Yeah, 'Hitlery' the veritable Hitler in heels. All the while, everything that wasn't bolted down got stolen.”

“Probably sold all the shit on ebay.”

“They need to make that shit a federal charge. They don't go to the White House and steal everything in sight.”

“No, but on that plane, it's a given. At least you'll get a new plane.”

“Damn well oughta, that air frame has more miles on it than this old bird. Well, let me get you a love connection.”

He spoke to Ty again and asked about Chance.

Ty came back on and said, “Lance tells you he's single and his number is on his application. Here, let me put him on and then you two can talk.”

Sling flipped a switch so my headset went live.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Jim, how ya doing bud?”

“Ok, and yourselves?”

“We're doing good, flying across this blizzard to Sioux and then hopping all night until we get back to Langley.”

“Yeah, we've got a busy day, and I hope it doesn't mess it up.”

“No, you guys need to get out of there because this is going to be a deep snow. It says here you work as a cook at Steak N Shake, is this current?”

“It was until about three hours ago, but there was no future in it. Now, I'm working for Lance.”

“Ok, well you've come up in the world. I'm glad you showed up because I sure liked you and I hope you liked me too. I work a month on and a month off. If you can wait, I'd like to see you. If it's a problem, I can rent a place locally there.”

“We'll talk about that when you call. I'll be home later today.”“Is this your cell phone or a house phone?”

“It's my cell phone, but the house phone number is on Ty's application. It's the same as Lance's. I'm not sure how much longer my cell phone will be on as I've not told my parents.”

“You'll keep your number no matter what. If your parents want to take the phone, they'll be notified by their provider the phone number they're wanting now only has governmental clearance for your access. That should make them really wonder what you've got going.” I chuckled.

“I'd stay and talk to you guys all the way into Sioux, but we need to go.”

“Maybe when if we get together, we'll get you a radio set up and you can talk with us when we're over the Midwest.”

“That'd be nice.”

“Well, we need to close this off, when is the best time to talk with you?.”

“Sometime this afternoon. I'm going to be busy this morning.”

“Ok, don't let him work you too hard.” But what I thought was, 'Man, if I had you, I'd give you a hard workout'.

“Ok. Over and Out”

Sling flipped the switch and turned to me. “You lucky son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, I'm a bit unnerved. He actually sounds interested.”

“See, you don't look too old to him!”

“Yeah, but his parents don't know.”

“Yeah, but talk to him this afternoon and see how things go. I'm sure the guy didn't want to have his information and things he thought were private out on a radio with a bunch of people standing around.”

“Yeah, I've got to get busy doing their paperwork.”

Who looked back and said, “A man that's been to war and flies with a bunch of roughnecks and he gets unnerved by a kid. Imagine that. It's gotta be love.”

Sling said, “Could be, if it is, I hope because he sure deserves it.”

Their chatter got lost in the background because I sat staring at every photo the FBI database had on him. I saw a yearly progression of school photos. Driver's license photos, and his employee badge photo. I saw his school grades, all his IQ test scores from tests he'd taken in school, his activities, credit report, and his social security work record. I saw everything, but what he was really like as a person. All I had was a few reports of what teachers had written about him in reports.

They say, clothes make the man, but family makes the person. What I saw from his links to his parent's files was disturbing. His father's dna and his mother's dna didn't match his. His brother's report was downright disturbing. Each report that came back was disturbing. His father was abusive towards his mom and although there weren't any arrests, I saw a string of incidents which all were logged into the system. The brother, well, let's just say his report even went as far as to state from one teacher that she voted him 'most likely to rip wings off small birds if he could catch them'.

With him giving Ty's number which was his cell phone number as a contact and Lance's address, I got a picture that Lance had rescued him and Ty was a friend. They were the same age and were in the same classes in a few years at school.

Tyson's report was interesting as it still stated he lived at home with his parents, but there was a recent death report of his mother..like four days ago. He didn't look to be grieving to me, but his family history was way more interesting. His parents were very prominent and his mom was a local beer distributor. The tax forms filed on the distributorship stated she was doing well....very well. But, her income tax form filed jointly with her husband stated her income she brought home wasn't a drop of what she made annually. I had account after account of money in it. Bank accounts, IRA, bonds, and a whole gamut of debit cards with the max in them. What's interesting is her income brought into the house was down to a dollar of being exactly that of her husband when she clearly surpassed him.

Insurance policies out had Ty, a brother Gregg, her husband, and another man listed as her beneficiary. Her personal business card had restaurant receipts, motel room receipts of like twelve times a month for a motel there in town, and the picture came out she was having an affair. I'd say the other man was the beneficiary on that policy. I wondered to myself what Ty knew and how much he knew. It wasn't my spot to say, but man, it didn't look rosy when you looked into it.

What's interesting is Ty's brother could have very easily hung out with Chance's brother and got along extremely well. Both looked to be in contention for the local 'asshole of the year' award and both would have had to split it jointly. Fights, Bullying, a suspicious death, and hold up a second, let me look at the cause of death of the mother.

Not all the paperwork is in, but the Sheriff's report states she was dead due to an apparently accident where the car went off a cliff and careened down an embankment and death was due to that. Yeah, I'm sure. It didn't take a blind man to see the finger probably pointed back to Ty's brother. It says her blood alcohol level was jeez, four times over the limit. Let's check her police reports.

Oh man, look at that. Mama liked to beat up her husband and Ty was the person reporting the incidents. Man, oh man, it looks like the households would have lived happily if Ty's mom had traded husbands and gotten together with Chance's dad. They could have split children and in one corner had a black and blue family and in the other corner, a family where everyone seemed to be nice. What the hell gives?

Well, Ty and Chance check out. Both are the decent members of their families, but what families...jeez, what sucked was I knew Ty's reports there would hold him back if he ever got into anything Top Secret

Just for giggles, let's pull up Lance's report. Wow...look at that flashing exclamation point. Lance's dna is a somewhat match for Chance's. Chance...Lance...even the names sound like twins. Let's look closer.

Oh, there we go, Chance's biological father....hmmm....would you look at that. The motherfucker was writing love letters to the man Chance was raised by. Now, I'm getting a better picture. It says the man had a police report of molesting his step children, but that report doesn't mention Chance. It says the father had another child, but doesn't state where that child was living. Well, I could tell you where he was living. He's living under the roof of his boyfriend and his wife. What a sick fuck. Beats his old lady and gets love letters from a guy that sends detailed letters of things they did as children together. Whoa.

It states here the man committed suicide from self induced natural causes. What the hell does that mean? How do you self induce a natural cause death? Run until you give yourself a heart attack? Walk into a deep freeze and freeze to death? What a stupid asshole this Coroner was...no one dies of natural causes when it's suicide, I'll tell you that. Let's see, the man was a diabetic. His medical shows me he had a history of psychotropics and barbituates. What a combination. The man also had an active prescription for an amphetamine diet pill. What the hell? He's 5'11” and weighed 160, what the hell would he want to lose weight for? That cocktail in his blood stream had to be amazing. Up, Down, Up, Down, all the while, his blood sugar was all over the planet being regulated by insulin that could one second be enough and the next either have him in a coma or rushing for an orange juice bottle.

And this is Chance's biological blood line. So who the hell is the mom? There's nothing in the database that links up with DNA, so either she's dead and died before samples got taken, or she's led a very very healthy life. So, that's why the guy gave him up. His wife dies and one second, what does it state on Chance's birth certificate?

Delores June Franklin. Let's see if she's anywhere in here. She's dead alright, but she married Ted Palmer who is a beer distributor and hand in hand with Ty's mom. What the hell? Chance is so close to the prize and yet, he doesn't know it. And, I can't say a thing. What a tangled web. Interesting little soap opera. Now, do I hold it against him? Or do I let him have a chance?

Oh fuck, why am I even considering that question? The kid give your heart a spot and you know he's most likely the one and you're going to question it because of a family tree that looks like it's got vines running through it? So, what, the kid's from the forest. Aren't we all.

I sat back and the sound of my breath being exhaled was loud enough Sling looked back and said, “What'd you find?”

“A soap opera man...a fucking soap opera.”

I told him the story of what I found and as he heard more, his head shook. “How can people lead such tangled lives?”

“Look at what our records state. If someone went in there, they'd see guys with crazy fucked up pasts that come from good backgrounds. You know and I know we come from horse shit communities where the police were too lazy to fill out the reports, otherwise, we'd have pasts just like those.”

“Yeah, the holes in mine are big enough that to even get this clearance, I had to be signed off personally by Rummy.”

“Yeah, I think we all did and sometimes I wonder if he threw us here as punishment, or to hold it over our head and put us in a spot so he could use it for his own gain.”

“We all know the answer to that. We wouldn't be getting promoted to the elite of the elite if there wasn't something more up the man's sleeves. Even though he's out, I don't think he's out far. I bet his deal has him with his finger on more buttons than anyone can imagine.”

“Well, he did right by me and once I'm retired, I'm not bitching about it.”

“No, we all can't complain, but don't be surprised if you get called up for something else.”

“No, no James Bond stuff for me. I just want to go lay down and share my bed with someone like Chance who looks at normal and thinks he has it good.”

“Well, be prepared for nightmares. I'm sure the kid's going to go through hell when he goes home to tell them he's gay.”

“Maybe I can get him to wait on that until I'm there. I think his old man and I could have a real quiet discussion and I could point it all out to him.”

“No, you know as well as I if you start printing that shit out, then the next thing we'll be doing is using it to get better seats in restaurants and getting better everything. The room for blackmail with that information could go on and on and on. Look at what that one director did with it. He'd run around in his red dresses and all the while be making lives hell.”

“Yeah, and who's to say it still isn't happening. I don't imagine Clinton and Bush Sr really got along so well raising funds for Katrina that it was so consuming they didn't make deals together?”

“I wouldn't put anything past her.”

“Not her. Him.”

“Yeah, but who has his balls in the vice? I'd say we all knew the reason he was there.”

“Well, you're going to work for her, not me. Thank God on that.”

“You sound like a Republican!”

“No, I'm an American. I question them all.”

We chuckled and said, “Yeah, I'm still laughing about that.”

“What?”

“There only being two planes in the air that day. When we were flying more than anyone.”

“Well, we're military, we can fly.”

“Yeah, but so's a lot of other people.”

“True. Have you spoken with Sam lately?”

“No, Uncle Sam and I haven't had much to talk about. He pumps me for information and I do the same. He lucked into that deal flying those war prisoners and seems to be making a lot of flights lately. They turn the cameras on Guantanamo only after they've moved the ones that have the information they need elsewhere off our soil.”

“Well, as long as we're all safe.”

“Oh bullshit. Look at how safe we were before and how safe we've been since. One guy who they have locked away is the one they're all pointing fingers at and yet, they can't find him. Amazing isn't it.”

“Well, we're not supposed to know that.”

“So, what do you hope for you and the kid?”

“Well, we're going to talk tomorrow and then, I'll talk to him Saturday night. Hopefully, he'll want to talk and build something. If not, then he's sure pretty to look at when we land there.”

“Yeah, I really hope he wants to build it with you. I know you need someone.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“No, because I care. I can't help but care when I work with you and see you every day. Each one of us is a family up here and even though 'Who' sits over there and won't speak to us, I'd still go scratch his ass if he was in a body cast.”

I chuckled and Freeze started laughing. “So would I.”

'Who' cracked a smiled and said, “Each of you take a cheek and get what you can off because when I get out, I'm coming after your asses.”

“Ok, But maybe we'd let you have them if you acted right.”

“Fuck you.”

“There you go, promising fantasies again” said Freeze.”They need to change the name of this crate to the fantasy factory.”

I looked over at Freeze and said, “Well, yours are about to become realities, so quit bitching. Once you have Sling's heels in the air, you know it will be love.”

“Hey now!” said Sling.

'Who' cracked a smile and I said, “Guys, I've got work to do. I've got to get these federal charges filed for back there and I've got to put in some contempt of contract warrants for the city, the airport, and that manager. I'm not going to ask for the manager's ass, but I'm sure going to have that whole maintenance crew fired.”

“Just fire the head. All the rest probably followed his instructions.”

“No, each one of them knows their job and each one knows our contract with them is what keeps them employed. Did you see a one of them out there standing around saying, “Hey, the department head is fucking up, but I want you to know I'm still here.”?”

“No, I guess you're right, but still, I think they're in the gray area.”

“Ok, how about censures for them with strong consideration for dismissal if their records have any warnings.”

“Ok, that would be good. If they've had a warning, then it makes me feel better. Take a look and see what we've got in our file on those guys and then, you can give a recommendation of who's to be moved up.”